Bindings
by Distopia
Summary: She, who had once been so happy, was now anything but. And as she slowly drowned beneath the weight of her sorrow, she silently screamed for someone to save her... ONESHOT


Series: Yugioh

Genre: Angst/Drama

Author: Aethyrial Flame

Summary: She, who had once been so happy, was now anything but. And as she slowly drowned beneath the weight of her sorrow, she silently screamed for someone to save her... ONESHOT

Disclaimer: I don't own Yugioh .. or Bakura and Ryou… Or even Malik and Tea! Unfortunately enough, all I own is my own imagination and, heh.. a few 'decorated' piggy banks and a permanent marker…

Originally, this was going to be a songfic set to Dido's "Two Weeks". But after reading back through a lot of Yu-Gi-oh fanfiction, I realised that that wasn't what I wanted. I'd left this alone for several months, a work of around several pages, always intending to finish it. So, after reading around to get myself back in the groove, I decided to do so. It was always meant to be a one-shot, but I found myself hard pressed to finish it, because it wasn't the length I wanted.

To me, the ending is still a bit iffy, but I'm happy with it. Generally, I don't write dark, angsty-works, so hopefully, this isn't all that bad. I wanted to try my hand at it, so please, feel free to leave your comments on how you think I did. If the below is twisted and vague, it's done intentionally; I've often been accused of being both too damn obscure, and too explanatory.

Anzu always struck me as an interesting character; her constant prattling (in the English version) about friendship always seemed a little… off. Oh, you could tell that she believed it, but she was _so_ passionate, _so_ adamant, that she always came across, to me as though she was trying to convince her_self_, not anyone else. It's been a while since I watched the series, but my main motivation, I guess, was her scene in Duellist Kingdom where she rips Kaiba a new one, and the Battle City Saga where Malik takes over her mind.

So, in part, this is a homage to all that I think that Anzu _could_ be, won't be… and is.

((EDIT as of 7/2/06 : Changed a few minor things; example, Anzu has 'shoulder length' hair instead of 'elbow length'. Went through and fixed grammar etc. I've been asked to do a second chapter for this, but I'm not really sure. This was always meant to be a stand alone… but there _are_ ways to make it fit. If, I guess, anyone is interested enough to want to see it continue, please drop me a line.))

* * *

Bindings

" '_Beyond__the Wild Wood comes the Wild World,' said the rat._

'_And that's something that doesn't matter, either to your or to me. I've never been there, and I'm never going, nor you either, if you've got any sense at all."_

Kenneth Grahame, 'The Wind in the Willows'

/-o-x-o-\

It really was, she reflected, a nice day. The wind was slightly brisk, stirring the ends of her shoulder length cinnamon locks, even as it tangled and whispered through the all but bare limbs, be-decked as they where in autumnal glory. High above her, cotton candy clouds sailed across the sky, teased out into delicate wisps that danced and played with her vision, even as the breeze toyed with the fallen harvest of summer.

Bright and blue, eyes the same colour as the sky above searched their reflection, picking out shapes that existed only in her own perception. And perhaps, she mused, such nice weather in the season that faded towards night, was foreshadowing the chill of winter that had yet to strike her heart. Moving sluggishly, cotton cloth rasping against her flesh, she adjusted her body into a more comfortable position.

Flesh still warm from the kiss of a tropical sun winced and shivered as it was brushed buy the breeze, the pale denim that covered it a flimsy shield to her thinned blood. Lazily, she stretched her arms above her head, feeling the soft crispness of lush grass beneath her fingers, and the leathery hardness of dried leaves, some of which crunched beneath her fingers, and others that didn't.

A warm haze suffused her thoughts as she glanced around, noting that, even on such a beautiful day, there where very few people about; in fact, if she cared to imagine it, she might almost pretend that she was alone… Wryly, her generous mouth quirked, the faintest hint of a dimple crinkling her cheek. Perhaps it was the rain that had been forecasted; she could sense, even through the lethargic thickness of her dozing state, the drop in temperature and increase in wind, and the fresh crispness of the familiar scents all around her.

She felt like she should shrug, and indeed, she did try to do so. But it was simply so _hard_ to do it; to shrug meant moving, and she was content as she was, simply lying there, gazing at a slowly darkening sky, and feeling the wind weave over her in a sinuous, airy caress.

They'd warned her, she remembered with a start, not to come out today.

'_It's going to rain,'_ they had said.

'_What if you get wet, and catch cold?'_

But really, did that matter? She didn't think so. Oh, but there where other reasons, and she had seen them lurking behind the carefully chosen words, peeping around the pretence of friendship, and jumping out at her from false concern. Thoughtfully, she considered the other reasons, telling herself that it was only polite to do so. If those reasons could talk, she knew just what they would say…

'_What if they kidnap you again?'_ Glittering in the darkness, a golden puzzle swung into view; amused, she poked it and watched the showy bauble lash back with shadowy force.

'_You still haven't recovered…'_ Laughing violet eyes gazed at her from the darkness, forcing her to think, do, say, act, want, need, deny, accept, all in ways that she hadn't… _hadn't_ wanted.

'_You aren't the same anymore.'_ Drifting away, she spared herself one last glance before turning forwards, resolutely setting her sights on her new future, her past goal.

They just didn't understand anymore. How fast they had grown up, then, in order to cope; it had changed them. She found herself restless, itching in her skin and fighting to break free, like a butterfly in a too-tight cocoon. Paranoid, concerned, they plagued her with questions, pestered her with their concerns, and peppered her with well meaning comments.

At times, she almost felt like she was under siege.

"_How pretty."_ Idly, the thought drifted across her mind, and she admired the way the light shone through the darkened clouds, the contrast brilliant and sharp in her mind, feathering the world away in ephemeral touches.

The staid little life that she had lead no longer interested her anymore; she wanted to see what was beyond the comfortable forest that she had romped in as a child, what was beyond the Wild Wood that she had trekked through in order to reach adult hood. She didn't want to pause on the edge or in a pretty clearing as so many did. She wanted to reach the Wild World on the other side- wanted to plunge into it, soak it, devour it, revel in it, until in the end, there was nothing left in it but _her_.

It was strange how things had remained the same, though. Everything inside of her had changed so radically in the span of a simple holiday with her parents; everything inside her had grown out of her old self, had spilled from the mould the world saw her in. No longer did she fit the same cookie cutter shape; no longer could she be dismissed as 'a preppy cheerleader' or 'a concerned friend' or even, in fact, 'that friendship girl'.

She was beyond, behind, above and below, apart and closer to what everyone thought of her. At times, she was confused as to how much everything had changed, and yet stayed the same. How her friends still acted like the little ninth graders that had stolen away on a ship and run off to a mystical island, and yet now they faced the world as hardened adults that had faced down the darkest of demons and won against them.

Escape, she was hunted as a fleeing prisoner. Freedom, her wings stretched and she soared. Fettered, she fell back down to earth, cruelly thrust back into reality.

Loud voices called out and shattered her trance, jerking her awake. Momentarily confused, she blinked and rubbed the grit from her eyes, before sighing and sitting up. Above her, the pristine expanse of sky had boiled over with the darkest of clouds, and around her, ragged skeletal leaves danced and spun in the brewing gale.

Drifting above the noise, like a leash dragging her in, she heard the call of her parents and she was forced to obey. Sluggishly, she got to her feet, swaying slightly as the last remnants of her relaxed state drifted away from her and into the storm at her back.

Huffing moodily, cinnamon locks whipping back and forth in her vision as she hunched over, thin shirt plastered to her body, her mouth tugged up into a smile as she realised why her parents where so angry. Several metres away, the modest five bedroom, two bathroom home rose from amongst gently sculptured garden beds and the smooth expanse of bagged limestone bricks. Nestled at the back of the house, overlooking the teeming garden, a small room bursting with chaos met the shocked gaze of her creators.

Instead of unpacking, as they'd ordered her, she'd instead plastered every single ounce of her room with clothing and various gifts. Actually, she was quite proud of the way everything presented itself; order and structured despite the chaos that leapt at the eye; but her parents didn't care- they never did.

There never seemed to be enough _time_ for anything anymore. Her parents where always rushing back and forth from work and legal proceedings, caught up in the hectic pace of the world beyond Domino. She was forced into a rapid paced learning program, with the brightest of the bright. Nobody saw how all she wanted to do was stop and admire the flowers; they kept urging her on faster, until she was swept off of her feet in the sea of humanity.

Fighting back a yawn, cerulean orbs shuttered briefly, she kicked the front door open and shuffled inside, foot hooking around the edge and pulling the wooden slab shut as she did so. Inside, they waited for her; the mother trying to play happy families even as they where torn apart, and the father, spoiling his daughter rotten in the hope of keeping her on his side.

Even now, so long after she had found out, the idea still had the power to shock her. The dull sound of a rattling 'thunk' swam through her thoughts and her mouth twitched into the faintest of smirks; behind her, the gate to her sanctuary ponderously swung shut. Casting back, she looked to her memories for solace, curled up in the comfortable squishiness of her large bed.

Her family had always been considered eccentric, and as a young child, she had never understood why. Both of her parents where always playfully jibing one another, or engaging in mock verbal battles, or simply sparring with words for the pure fun of it. Upon her impressionable mind, they had instilled strict moralist and ethical codes of conduct, and this fertile ground was well watered in buy the fantasy novels that they had encouraged her to read.

But as she got older… the jibing words became edged and brittle, and somehow, they never seemed to _play_ anymore. What had once been light-hearted and fun was now deadly serious and in earnest; her parents couldn't seem to string two civil words together when around one another.

For awhile, perhaps, she had deliberately thrown herself into false naivety. She had smiled so brightly, with such shining brilliance, that no-one noticed how the light blazed from the cracks of her breaking heart. As they had always told her, she parroted the sage words of wisdom that had littered her growing years.

'_There is nothing more important than friendship,'_ they had told her. '_For if you can not love someone, then you can at least appreciate them, accept their love, and stand by as a good and loyal friend.'_

Her friends had become her life. Ignoring everything but the oily film of their perceptions of her, she had fiercely protected all that she had extended a hand towards; graciously, she allowed them to draw her from the abyss that she was slowly sinking into. Patiently, she had watched as they where fired buy her enthusiasm, had waited as she gave and gave and gave, always giving, supporting them when they needed her…

… and received nothing in return. She had told herself that it didn't matter. Buoyed buy the comfortable, thick blankets of her bedding, surrounded by childish mementos- for she had been _happy_ then, not like this now plastic joy- she could lie and say that somehow, someday, some_where_, they would notice.

Not that they ever _did,_ of course. Cautiously, like the way her parents tip toed around the subject of their fragmented relationship, carefully, like the way that she pretended that she didn't notice their growing bitterness, she had tested the waters of their friendship. It had sickened her, the way the oily touch of their perceptions slid past her so easily, polluting the clear, crystalline liquid.

Everything was changing. She didn't want it to- had never wanted it to. Change meant accepting the harsh realties that where tearing down her world, leaving her naked and vulnerable. This loss of control- she hated it. Hated the way she felt as though she was slipping, slipping so quickly and without chance of redemption…

Shaking her head quickly, forcing the bitter thoughts from her memories, the young woman pushed herself up from her bed, and gazed around the room. "_The chaos,"_ she reflected bitterly, "_Reflects my own life."_ At first look, it appeared chaotic and beyond comprehension. But if you looked closer, you noticed that certain clothes accumulated in specific patterns and areas, certain things made certain shapes, and really, that it was just a big puzzle…

Snorting in disbelief at the fertility of her own imagination, the cinnamon haired teen raked a hand through the wind mussed locks, pushing aside fantasy for practicality.

Yes, her holiday had been amazing, allowing her to experience another, more open, sunny culture. Yes, it had shone light upon her, thawing a little of her bitter, ice-shrivelled heart. And yes, it had opened her eyes to what she'd denied so fiercely…

Hating the thick, aching pressure in her throat, the hot feeling winding around her temples, and the mess of barbed wired scrambling her insides, she pushed down the tears that threatened to fall, picking up a few pieces of clothing instead. Resolutely, she shuffled towards her cupboard, and began mindlessly shoving them in.

No matter the pain that saturated her life, she was _strong_. She would get over this. The helpless feeling of vulnerability- so familiar to her, after the events of a year past- would subside. Her life would become her own, surely?

With a sigh, she acknowledged that it would not. If she was petty and selfish, she could blame everything – her present, past and future troubles- on her one moment of weakness, but she wouldn't.

Anzu Mazaki was too honest for that.

It wasn't the vulnerability that bothered her; suffering through a prolonged divorce had shown her how to deal with that. It was, instead, something entirely different.

She had always considered herself strong, both mentally, emotionally, and somewhat psychically. That fact, her only vanity, had been her foundation, the weathered rock that she clung to amidst the deadly, raging waves that her life had become.

And in a single afternoon, it had been taken from her.

The memory was so clear, even now- the sickening, clawing fear as she felt the world fade from her control, as the mind of their enemy- not hers, never hers, it was the enemy of her _friends_, and thusly hers because of this- over took her own. She had been told of his power- the power to subjugate another to his will- but hadn't believed it.

Outwardly, she'd been worried, but putting on a brave front, ready to be there for her friends. Inwardly, however, she'd known- known so utterly, so thoroughly- that it wouldn't come true for her. She was strong- not weak, not that, _never_ that; and thusly, couldn't be touched.

So when the slow, silky glide of another's intentions, of another's mind, another's _will_, had masked her own and forced her back, she could only freeze, assailed buy a drowning tide of terror.

Aching, burning, her weakness taunted her from the dark recesses of her mind- she hadn't been strong enough, she _never_ had, to save herself from the life that was dogging her footsteps.

Briefly, she'd fought, but it had been a futile front; more like something to satisfy her inner voice, the one that didn't want to lie to her friends. If she put up a struggle, then in all truth, if the asked her, then she wouldn't be lying…again.

The presence had known that, and she could feel- with a shocking sense of closeness that had sent her reeling- that it _amused_ him. It had amused him to know that the Golden Girl, the brave, untouchable one, secretly craved the weakness of deceit.

So he hadn't bothered with her. Because they both knew that no matter what she _said_, she wouldn't fight him- nor would she ever.

Because he had done it with the others, and because he wanted too, he allowed her to watch everything that happened. In the safety of her mind, she didn't have to worry about her guilt; didn't have to worry about how she _didn't care_ that, out there, her two best friends where fighting for their lives.

Instead, she had floated in a comfortable lassitude. She was weak, yes, very much so. But it didn't matter, because at that moment, no one would blame her, and no one would _know_.

Except for him.

But he would be beaten, she knew with an unshakeable faith, buy her friends. That was simply the way that the world went. The thought angered him, but he didn't bother exploring it- she was pliant under his control, and much of his concentration was devoted to manipulating those close to her.

She'd known when his control had begun to fade; known when the world would intrude on her once more. So, she'd prepared herself, and acted as heart broken and distraught as she should.

Because she was weak. Because she deserved it.

And because, in the end, she didn't deserve to be saved- didn't deserve to have anyone know about this private hell of hers, which tormented her with every waking breath.

Anzu Mazaki was a tarnished angel, hovering on broken wings.

/-o-x-o-\

'_I'm worried about her.'_

They thought that she didn't hear them, didn't see the quick, wounded and worried glances that they cast her way. Thought that she wouldn't notice how they noticed, or how she didn't care…

'_Yeah, she hasn't said nuthin' 'bout friendship for weeks now!'_

The jokes hiding the concern, belaying the world weary acceptance, didn't affect her. Nothing could- nothing would. This beautiful, cool, refreshing latitude swept through her soul, for once baring all of her lies and deceptions.

'_Are you sure that you're okay, Anzu?'_

But she _wasn't_ okay, and never had been. Her parents had finally split up, leaving her mother with the house, and her father with the spacious down town apartment. _Anything_ was better than allowing herself to feel.

Despite her good intentions, her 'honest', 'soul baring' words… at heart, she was a _coward_. So, instead of accepting the cruelness of reality, she let the icy fog of _nothing_ cover her.

She stopped pretending that she was happy- she wasn't. She stopped pretending that everything was okay- nothing ever had been. And she stopped mouthing lies, darting back to hide the truth, or cloaking it in insubstantial doubts.

Instead, she became brutally honest, to everyone but… herself.

But that was okay. If she just stayed like this, numb, an automatic shell scoring decent grades and drifting through life, then that was okay. Nothing could not feel. Nothing did not feel a white hot, bleeding rage that made her want to keen her grief in screamed echoes.

Nothing did not make her want to wallow in her grief, bathe in her sorrow, and force everyone around her to feel the same. _Nothing_ was not a selfish almost-adult cutting herself off from the world and worrying her precious friends because she didn't act the way that they thought that she did.

No. Because nothing was like ice- frozen, hard, invincible… and strong.

Yes. She would _be_ nothing- she would be strong.

But she was weak; too weak to become ice, to weak not to flinch when, slowly, the world ground at her shields, dissolving them flake buy flake. She was so weak that she cried when she didn't want to, and burnt at her ice in screaming, psychotic rages.

She was so weak that she argued with her mother every day, and she was so weak that the arguments cut deep, bleeding slashes in her heart.

And she was so weak that pain -any pain- tied her to the world. Those beautiful, crimson jewels where her only life line; and she hated herself for it.

Carefully, she rationed herself; rarely, if ever, did she allow that pain to draw her back down. Because the pain was the epitome of her weakness, and succumbing to her weakness meant that she truly _was_ weak.

Softly, a hastily muffled sob reached and strangled her throat. The fact that it was the middle of winter and pouring with rain didn't matter. She was, finally, accepting herself- accepting her faults, and realising how much she had erred.

Because she was so _weak_, she had taken the final step, and done something that repulsed her old self; she couldn't believe that she had done this last thing, this _one_ thing, in a last ditch effort to feel something- to feel _anything_.

It had been a subtle courtship, she knew. He had been interested in her from the beginning; and starved for any attention, but scornful of it, she had eased herself into the game. The tiny, tottering steps that they both took frustrated her, but she reined herself in- this was a weakness, an unforgivable sin- she didn't deserve it, never had…

So did it really matter, then?

Slowly, she had allowed him to draw her to him; had allowed the silky, velvety poison to sink deep within her mind. Slowly, she had allowed herself to succumb to her weakness.

In those dark hours before morning, when the world seemed at its bleakest, she had allowed him to taunt her, to tease her, to play with her like a cat its prey.

After all, it was only what she deserved for being so _weak_.

So when he had lead her towards his bed, had undressed her so carefully, as though afraid that she might break, she had let him. She had taken all that he had to give, and more, in her selfish, desperate search for some sort of acceptance.

He didn't care for her, she knew- this was a twisted sort of revenge, plundering the nest of his most hated enemy, stealing the precious treasure that they guarded so carefully. And hating herself, hating him, hating _them_, she had allowed it.

Thunder cracked and boomed overhead, startlingly her badly. Quicksilver and glowing in the dim light that the clouds could not obscure, she gazed with horrified fascination at the long, shallow cut that graced her forearm.

Against the cold whiteness of her skin, against the glow of the darkness surrounding her, and the dazzling afterimages that lightning left upon her vision, the crimson beads of blood drew her focus irresistibly.

Breath coming in hot, shallow pants of anticipation, she relished the pain as, cautiously, she eased the cut wider. Singing, white hot agony screamed through her body as the sharp knife gently eased apart her flesh; lost amongst the roar of the storm, the blade clattered to the ground beside her.

The pain… the pain… Ah, kami, the pain. Like a living thing, it ripped and tore, shredded and gnawed, tearing her apart, even as her blood- that precious, precious liquid- pumped from her arm.

She hadn't meant to cut that deep, truly- but she'd been curious. She'd wanted to feel the pain- that first moment of numbness when the blade cuts the skin, and then this hissing, screaming agony as her nerves began to howl, sending racking waves of pain to torture her body, matching that which cruelly bracketed her mind.

Sucking in a slow, shuddering breath, she twisted her lips in a grim parody of a smile, thoughts turning, inevitably, to what others would think. It had always concerned her, such a thing- would it not puzzle them, to find her dead in the park after the storm, dark blood pooling around her form, stained knife beside her and face stretched into a smile?

Another shudder wracked her frame, an aching pressure that built outwards from her arm, and lanced towards her heart. Her body… her body… she couldn't feel it. That beautiful, beautiful numb sensation drew over her like a dark shroud; and though she slowly toppled to meet the ground, it mattered not to her.

Dimly, her mind registered the shock of rapidly cooling flesh meeting the bitterly cold ground; slowly, she became mesmerised buy the patterns and colours her blood made as it mixed with the water; the sensation of incredible agony that pulsed within her as, mercilessly, the elements lashed her vulnerable form.

She could feel the end coming; welcomed it with open arms, in fact. Her eyelids felt so heavy- surely, it would not matter if she closed them for just a little while? Her death would not be quick; if she rested for just a little while, then the racing flow of blood pumping from her veins would have slowed to a dribble when she awoke, and she could meet her end free of pain…

Slow, heavy, and tinged with incalculable weariness, a sigh gusted from her lungs, and, it seemed, that despite the wind lashing her body, the raindrops drumming against her, and the screeching crack of thunder overhead, she managed to pull a tiny bit of oxygen back within her lungs.

So absorbed with the sensations that she was both feeling, and _not_ feeling, the cinnamon haired woman never felt the rough, calloused fingers that lifted her from the ground. Hypnotized buy her oncoming death, she never registered the sensation of her body being lifted, nor the achingly familiar hot, tingling wave of dark power that flowed over her.

Limp and unresisting, she never noticed the burning violet gaze that bored into her own clouded cobalt one, as a dark, husky voice screamed ancient words into the height of the storm.

And, as the darkness both within and without finally consumed her, she never heard the words that he spoke to her…

"I _won't_ let it end like this, not for you, never for _you_…"

But some part of her must have, as her soul stretched and ached and yearned, desperate to break the ties that bound as she _reached_…

Because, unnoticed by either of them, their tears pooled and mixed in the hollows of her cheeks, mixing with the sorrow of nature, as it raged and screamed its fury around them.

* * *


End file.
